The Ink Under My Skin
by Leigh Adams15
Summary: Our choices define who we are. Katie and Marcus live with the consequences. (Written for the 2013 Interhouse Fest on LiveJournal).


**Title:** The Ink Under My Skin  
**Author:** Leigh, aka leigh_adams  
**Pairing**: Marcus Flint/Katie Bell  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~13,000  
**Warnings:** None  
**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is JKR's. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.  
**Summary: ** Our choices define who we are. Katie and Marcus live with the consequences.  
**Author's notes:**Written for the 2013 Interhouse Fest on LiveJournal. My thanks to thimble_kiss for the great prompt! It wasn't originally my intention to write such a long story, but the muse and I clearly weren't on the same page. Also thanks to my amazing beta, fiery_flamingo, who spins straw into gold (well, at least copper) when she reads for me.

**The Ink Under My Skin**

**May 2, 1998**

It was a day for the history books. It sounded a bit silly to think of it in such sweeping generalizations, but it was the truth. Good had triumphed over evil. Harry Potter had vanquished the Dark Lord, saving them all from certain death. There would be books written about the battle; books that would tell tales of both heroism and cowardice, stories about the valiant Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army.

History, after all, was written by the victors.

The details those stories would omit - Katie would never forget.

She would never forget the way her best friend collapsed and cried Fred's name over and over again, unwilling to let any of them console her. The sight of little Colin Creevey's body in Oliver's arms. The bloodstains on the stone floor.

She would never forget the bodies.

The sun was high overhead by the time she and several other survivors combed their way through the castle and up to the Astronomy Tower. Every so often, they would find a survivor buried beneath rocks, and the Healers among them would rush to see to their injuries.

Among the survivors, they found more bodies. Su Li, serene in death, her hand clasped in Morag MacDougal's, not a single mark on their corpses; the Killing Curse.

A soft, ragged cough drew her attention from the fallen girls. Katie's head whipped around; the cough seemed to echo all around their band of volunteers - even in the rubble, the castle acoustics were still tricky. And then she saw it: a broken wand was next to the bloody hand.

She ran the few feet across the corridor, jumping over a small pile of rocks until she was next to the rubble pile. "I'm here, I'll get you out." Her voice dropped to murmur to herself, "Please don't die on me."

Trapped beneath and fallen suit of armor and broken portrait frame, Katie dug through to the still-breathing person buried beneath the debris. She hissed when a splinter jammed itself beneath her fingernail, but she ignored the pain and kept digging. The person's arm was trapped beneath a large rock, and it took all the strength Katie had left to roll it to the side.

Revealing a pale, broken arm imprinted with the Dark Mark. Katie froze.

A Death Eater. She could leave him here - she could cover the hand and wand up with debris. Maybe he would die, maybe someone else would find him. Surely, whoever belonged to that bloody hand deserved a slow, painful death.

Even as she thought that, she found herself moving to finish the job. _Fuck_. She shifted the rest of the armor off the body. It fell aside with a loud 'clang,' revealing a familiar face.

There was a nasty gash on his left temple, and one of his eyes was swollen shut, but there was no mistaking the face of Marcus Flint.

One eye opened and met her wide brown gaze. He whispered something, but the words weren't audible.

Katie gripped her wand tighter and raised it so he could see it. "What'd you say?"

He swallowed, a grimace of pain flickering over his bloody features. "_Kill...me..._" he whispered again.

"You're not getting off that easy." She bent down and grasped the broken pieces of his wand, tucking them away in her pocket. Kill him now, and let him take the easy way out? How many of their side had _he_ killed during the battle? Was he responsible for Su, for Morag? _Damn_ him to the depths of Hell, but she was a better person than that.

"Heidi, I need a Healer over here!"

* * *

_June 12, 1998_

In the weeks that had followed the battle, Katie felt like she hadn't stopped moving. The days immediately prior had been a mixture of chaotic and mournful - for despite the fact that they'd won, the losses had been severe.

She'd attended six separate memorial services. As long as she lived, she would never forget the details of them. The way the crowd - composed of every member of Dumbledore's Army _and_ the Order still living and not in the hospital - packed the tiny Muggle church to honor little Colin Creevey. The explosion of colorful flowers for Lavender Brown. The smell of burning joss paper at Su Li's wake.

The heartache and tears she'd cried for Fred.

But the memorials were over. You-Know-Who's followers had either fled, died, or were locked away behind bars and were awaiting trial. The courts were scheduled to convene soon - after the mandated month of mourning and reflection suggested by their interim Minister of Magic, it was time to see justice served.

Katie felt adrift. With the Quidditch league still in-limbo, she found she had a lot of time on her hands. It was rumored the draft date would be set soon, but until the Department of Magical Games and Sports made it official, there was little she could do but wait.

And Katie Bell had never been an idle sort of person.

She went on runs; twice a day - once in the morning, once just before nightfall. She ran all over London. From the Queen's Walk on the south side of the Thames, through Hyde Park, on the grounds of the Royal Observatory. It was liberating, having the freedom to run without worrying someone was chasing her.

It also had the added benefit of keeping her in shape. If the draft _did_ happen in the next month, she'd need to be ready.

She'd also taken up baking. The only problem with her new found hobby was that its efforts were contradictory to her daily runs - eat more, run more. And she had an abundance of biscuits, scones, and other baked goods just lying around the kitchen.

Her baking habit was what led her back to St. Mungo's. There were still quite a few survivors of the battle in resident, having sustained injuries that required monitoring from the Healer's on-call. The frazzled witches and wizards were grateful for a bit of something sweet, as were the other veterans of the battle.

She didn't recognize any of them, but it didn't matter. They'd been fighting by her side. It bonded people in a way few other events could.

"You are officially my favorite person," Healer Ackerley greeted her when she rounded the corner, a large bag full of pastries in her arms. Katie had grown to like the older, no nonsense witch. With her short red hair and youthful enthusiasm, it was hard _not_ to. It was even harder to imagine the Healer having a son at Hogwarts, but she'd been assured that was the case.

"Oatmeal biscuits today - no nuts, as promised." Katie smiled and handed the bag over to the Healer.

"Perfect. Wouldn't want Amy at reception to have another reaction. I know we're in a hospital, but we're already running ourselves ragged as it is without having to worry about our own staff needing attention." Healer Ackerley rolled her eyes. "The Healer on-call for the prisoner corridor already called in sick this week - nasty case of spattergoit."

"The prisoner corridor?"

"The ward where injured Death Eaters are being kept until they're well enough for trial," the older woman explained as she fished out a biscuit. She took a bite and made an 'mmmmm' of approval. "We lost one to her injuries a few weeks ago, but there's still twelve or so on the mend."

Unbidden, her mind flashed back to the Death Eater she'd pulled from the rubble. Katie hadn't given much thought to Marcus Flint since that night, but she couldn't deny feeling a bit curious about his whereabouts. "I know you can't tell me much about your patients -"

"Can't tell you much of anything, if we're being frank. Healer/patient confidentiality and whatnot." She quirked a brow at her, a few crumbs gathered on her lip. "What's on your mind, Katie?"

Katie shrugged. "I found a man - a Death Eater - at Hogwarts that night. He was pretty banged up, and I didn't know if he was still in the hospital."

Setting the bag of goodies down on a nearby Healer's desk, her companion reached for a nearby patient chart. "No harm in checking. What's the name?"

"Marcus Flint."

Healer Ackerley flipped through the pages, glancing at names until she paused. "Yes, Flint is still in residence." She looked up at Katie, her expression curious. "Do you know him?"

The younger witch shook her head. "Not really. We played Quidditch against each other at school, but it's been years since I saw him. At least, years before that night."

She nodded. "He's down the hall, past the security warden, in case you're interested." A small device at the Healer's belt started to beep shrilly, and she swore. "I've got to dash. Thanks again for the biscuits, Katie."

"Anytime!" Katie waved as the woman dashed off down the corridor, another Healer joining her. Shifting her bag, she turned to head towards the exit.

Marcus Flint was still in the hospital. _That_ was interesting.

* * *

_June 14, 1998_

She didn't last two days before she was back at the hospital. All of yesterday, Katie had wrestled with the niggling idea of checking in on Marcus Flint. It was _ridiculous_; he was a Death Eater, for the love of God! He didn't deserve her sympathy, or her company, and he _certainly_ didn't deserve the almond biscotti she'd tucked in her shoulder bag.

But at the same time, she wanted to see him. There was no good reason for it - they'd never been friendly. Or cordial. Or civil. He was a Slytherin, and she was a Gryffindor, and they hated one another. It was the principle of the matter.

Or so she'd thought. Unlike the majority of her classmates, she'd never _hated_ Slytherins. Not really. Intense dislike, she had that covered. But pure hatred? It wasn't her thing. It likely stemmed from having a mother who'd once been in Slytherin House - if her own mother was a snake, then there were obviously some redeeming qualities there.

Hidden far, far way.

On a similar line of thought, she'd recognized him beneath that rubble. Beneath the rocks and the wounds and the dark tattoo on his forearm, he was someone she'd once known.

They'd been schoolmates. They'd faced one another on the Quidditch pitch. It wasn't something she could just forget.

The look the security wizard gave her when she approached was friendly. "Hello there, love, can I help you? If you're looking for the lobby, you took a wrong turn - shoulda made a left instead of a right, you see."

"I think I'm in the right place, but thank you," Katie replied with a small smile. Now that she was here, an unexpected bout of nerves was making itself known. Her knuckles were white where she clutched her handbag strap, and she could feel a dribble of sweat trickling down her spine. "I... I don't even know if visitors are allowed, but if they are, I'm here to see someone in this ward."

The wizard - whose name badge read **RHEON** in large, blocky letters - looked at her in surprise. "Ain't many people coming to see the patients here, love. Actually, I ain't had anyone sign the log since they got here. Who you wanting to see?"

"Marcus Flint."

"Why?" Given the circumstances, Katie would have expected a hostile tone, but Rheon was more confused than accusatory. "You his bird?"

"No!" she replied quickly. "We were... classmates, a long time ago."

He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself, love. You'll need to sign the log book here." He gestured to the blank book in front of him. "And turn in your wand."

Katie's hand froze mid-outreach, the quill just beyond her fingertips. "My wand?"

"For security purposes, but you'll be alright without it," he assured her. "He ain't got a wand of his own, and there are security measures in place. He won't hurt you."

She remembered his wand, snapped at his side when she'd found him. "I'm not afraid of him," she murmured instead, signing her name to the log book along with the date and her time of visit.

Rheon shrugged. "Most people would be," he said. "Hold your arms out, please."

Doing as he requested, Katie watched as the security wizard ran his wand over her body. When nothing set off the alarms, he took her wand and placed it in a small box on the desk. "Down the corridor, third door on your right. Should be open."

"Thank you," she murmured, feeling extremely vulnerable without her wand - almost naked. As she passed down the corridor, she ignored the looks from the few Healers she passed. There was a palpable tension on the ward; understandable, all things considered.

_Stupid Katie_, she thought. Now that she was here, she wanted nothing more than to do an about face and march back out the door. But dammit, she was a bloody Gryffindor, and she would - at the very least - make it to the room before she bolted.

As the guard had said, the door was open. She approached it cautiously with soft footsteps. It was a small room with little more than a bed, a window, and a table with a pitcher of water. Now that she could see Flint, she understood what Rheon meant about 'security measures.'

Heavy manacles encircled his wrists and ankles. Marcus Flint was literally chained to the bed.

For a moment, it looked as if he were asleep. Standing in the doorway, Katie wordlessly watched him. The wound on his temple was healing, the angry tissue faded to pink with time and care. Other than that superficial note, he was an entirely different man than the broken person she'd found buried in the castle rubble.

It took a moment before she realized his eyes had opened, and he was staring at her.

Katie blinked and took a fortifying breath, exhaling softly. "Flint."

"What are you doing here?" He muttered, shooting her a look that no sane person would describe as 'friendly.'

She shrugged and took a step into the room. "I had some free time. Thought I'd pop in and see how you were doing."

Flint grunted in derision. "Why? So you can gloat?"

She shot him a look. "No, I'm not here to gloat."

"Then why are you here, Bell?"

"I really don't know."

He snorted. "Shocking. A Gryffindor doesn't know something. This is breaking news."

She took another step closer, irritation making her bolder. "You know, you're not really in a position to joke. I may not know why I even bothered coming here, but I do know that I wasn't stupid enough to back a lunatic with a serious inferiority complex."

His eyes narrowed. "Thought you weren't here to gloat."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Shouldn't have wasted my time." Flipping him two fingers, she spun on her heels and turned to leave.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

"Why didn't you kill me?" he repeated the question. "You could've done it. No one would've stopped you. Fuck, I _asked_ you to."

Her dark eyes softened slightly, her lips pursed in a thin line as she thought for a moment. She'd asked herself the same thing in the nights following the battle, and in the day she'd spent agonizing over whether or not to visit him.

"I didn't want your death on my conscience," she finally answered softly, lifting her chin in challenge. "Whatever happens to you is what you deserve in the eyes of the law, not what _I_ think."

Without sticking around to hear his reply, Katie hurried down the corridor towards the desk where Rheon sat, watching her anxiously. "Everything alright?"

"Just fine," she said, but the shaking of her hands belied her nonchalant tone. Riffling through her bag, she fished out the small package of biscotti and handed it to the guard, managing a weak smile. "Have some biscotti. I baked it myself."

He exchanged the biscotti for her wand, eyeing the baked biscuit gratefully. "I take it we won't be seeing you back here again?"

She shook her head. "Probably not. Thank you for your help."

"And thank you for the food, love," he said gratefully, ripping the bag open. "Have a good one."

* * *

_June 17, 1998_

"Back again, Katie?"

From her vantage point just inside the door, Katie glanced over her shoulder and mustered a small smile for the redheaded Healer in the corridor. She shrugged. "Don't ask me why. I don't even know what I'm doing here." After her initial run-in with Flint, she'd sworn she wasn't coming back to the prisoners' corridor. Yet something drew her back, so here she was. _Dammit_.

Healer Ackerley stepped into the room and stopped next to her. Both women gazed at the man sleeping somewhat peacefully in the bed. Every so often, Marcus would twitch in his sleep, disrupting the even rise and fall of his chest.

"I'd say you were visiting a friend, but I know that's not right."

Katie shook her head. "We're not friends." She shook her head and sighed. "Everything is just so mixed up in my head, you know? Grief and anger and happiness combusting. I feel like I'm going to eventually explode."

The older woman shifted, adjusting her clipboard beneath folded arms. She turned her even green gaze to Katie. "And Marcus...intensifies these feelings? Dampens them?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." She felt like a broken gramophone saying that, but it was the _only_ thing she was sure of was her uncertain emotions regarding Marcus Flint. "I should hate him - I _want_ to hate him - but I... I just can't." Her eyes flickered to meet the Healer's, her voice softening. "He asked me to kill him."

"When you found him?"

Katie nodded. "When I pulled the debris off him, I saw the Dark Mark first. I realized I recognized him second. When he saw it was me, he asked if I would kill him."

Silence fell between the two women. Katie turned her attention back to the very man they were discussing. For some reason, her subconscious wouldn't let her forget his last request - death.

She'd fought alongside the DA and the Order at the battle. She didn't think she'd killed anyone; at the very least, she knew she'd never cast the Killing Curse. But then again, in the heat of the battle, spells that weren't lethal by definition often became so. But Marcus... his death wouldn't have been in self-defense. It would have been an execution.

That wasn't her. Katie Bell wasn't a killer.

"Can I ask you a question?" When the Healer nodded, Katie asked, "He looks like there's nothing wrong. At least, his wounds are gone or have scarred over already. Why is Flint still here?"

"Ah." Healer Ackerely sighed and glanced over at her patient. "Not all wounds are external. Mr. Flint suffered quite a bit of internal damage - a few more hours, and I don't think he would have made it through."

A few more hours. Katie stumbling across him had literally been the difference between life and death. She hadn't realized - but she also wasn't any sort of medical professional. Despite her extensive stays in the hospital over the years from Quidditch injuries and her run-in with that cursed necklace, she knew very little about healing.

"Katie?"

"Hmm?"

"May I suggest something?"

She glanced over at the Healer in question. "Yes, Healer Ackerley?"

The redheaded witch smiled. "I've told you, it's Jade."

"Fine." Katie crinkled her nose. "Jade. What do you suggest?"

Jade turned her gaze towards her patient, though her words were directed at the younger woman. "One of the younger Healers on staff studied psychology at university. It's primarily a Muggle field of medicine, but she's a Muggleborn and grew up familiar with the subject. She's had some success in getting our patients to talk about their state of mind, especially those - like yourself - who saw combat."

Katie blinked up at her. "You think I should talk to a Healer? Why?"

"Not all wounds can be fixed by magic. For the most part, we can heal a person's body without any lasting effects. Mentally, though..." Jade trailed off and glanced back at Katie. There was understanding written in the look she fixed on her. "You're no stranger to this hospital, Katie. I know your history. It might help if you talked your emotions through with a stranger, someone with no prior knowledge of you."

For a long moment, Katie was silent. The idea of talking to a stranger made her immediately want to run out of the hospital and never come back. She'd never been the type of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, who made friends with everyone she met.

"I'll think about it," she finally replied a bit dubiously.

The Healer nodded and smiled. "I think it would be good for you."

She had her doubts about that, but Katie didn't feel like arguing. Glancing back at the bed, she sighed. Flint, lost in his dreams, jerked in his sleep and groaned a word Katie couldn't make out.

"Is he saying something, or is that just the usual Flint grunt?"

Jade shook her head. "I can't tell. I've heard him say a name in his sleep before, but I couldn't make that out."

"A name?" Katie cocked her head to the side and looked at Jade. "Whose name?"

"Lucy." The older witch shrugged. "I don't know who she is. You're the only person who's come to visit since he arrived. Does that name sound familiar."

Katie shook her head. "I've never met a Lucy before in my life." But now that she knew there was a Lucy in the mystery of Marcus Flint, she was determined to find out who she was.

* * *

_June 22, 1998_

"Who's Lucy?"

"I said you could sit there, Bell. I didn't say you could talk."

"I don't recall asking your permission." Katie's brow rose in challenge, her lips twitching. Every day for the last week, she'd been coming back to 'visit' Marcus. The first three days, she just stood in the doorway for a few minutes before leaving.

The fourth day, he'd huffed and told her she might as well sit down. Her hovering in the doorway was annoying him.

Dark eyes flashed an irritated glance at her, and he shifted beneath the thin blanket. "I don't know anyone named Lucy."

"Liar."

"I'm a Slytherin, Bell. It's what we do."

"Maybe." Katie set her book to the side and leaned closer to the bed, fixing him with a defiant look. "But I'm a Gryffindor, and we tend to call people out on their shit. So spill, Flint. Who is she?"

"Don't tell me you're jealous," he drawled, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. "I _am_ chained to this bed, Bell. Wouldn't be that difficult for you to take advantage of me."

Katie's nose crinkled. "Don't make me vomit. I only wanted to offer the poor woman my condolences, if she's trapped in a life with you." She quirked a brow at him in question. "And don't change the subject. Who's Lucy?"

His face darkened, lips set in a thin line. "Drop it, Bell."

"Touchy, are we?" Her tone turned mocking, and she cocked her head to peer at him quizzically. "I'm guessing she's an ex. Is that right?" He glared at her, but it only encouraged her goading. "An ex-girlfriend of yours... I bet she tossed your trollish arse to the curb once you got that pretty new tattoo, didn't she? I don't think any self-respecting woman would want to be stuck with a Death Eater -"

"_She's my sister!_" The slowly-simmering anger she'd ignored came raging to the surface. His face red with emotion, Flint continued to shout, "My little sister, you pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor. Do you want to know why I have this tattoo, Bell? _Do you?_"

She felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her head. "Flint, I didn't -"

"You didn't what, Bell? _Think_? You see the Dark Mark, and you do what Gryffindors do best: make stupid assumptions that are just plain _wrong_."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't give a fuck if you're sorry or not. I did what I had to do to save my little sister, and look where it's gotten me." He raised his arms to rattle the chains shackling him to his hospital bed. "I don't know where my sister is, or if she's even _alive_, and yet you drop by, day after day, just to lord your little victory over me. Well congratulations, Bell, your life is sunshine and roses, and I'm going to Azkaban for the rest of mine. You win."

"That's why you took the Mark." Comprehension slowly dawned on her, and she realized with a growing sense of horror that she had completely misjudged the man sitting in front of her - painting his character with bold strokes and lumping him in with all the others. The ones who'd joined Voldemort because they were _true_ believers.

Not the ones who'd had no choice.

Flint rolled his eyes at her. "You're a smart one."

"I'm not the one who had to repeat seventh year," she sniped back.

"Please. Make fun of my intelligence if it makes you feel better about yourself." He visibly deflated, as if he were a balloon pricked by a needle, and slumped back against the pillows. "Such a kind witch, you are."

Katie ignored him and went for the pertinent question. "Flint, why didn't you tell anyone about your sister?"

He gave her a patronizing look. "Who would have believed me?"

"I _think_ proving you have a sister would be fairly easy to do."

He snorted in derision. "You lot believe what you want to believe. So what? I have a sister - no way of proving anything else."

"Of proving you were coerced?"

Shaking his head, Flint didn't answer. "Just... get out of here, Bell. I'm done with this little interrogation."

"Flint..."

"_Out!_"

Her temper flared, but Katie could recognize - most of the time - when it was best to walk away. Pocketing her wand, she stood and grabbed her book. "This conversation isn't over, Flint."

"I could never be so lucky."

* * *

_June 24, 1998_

"I hope one of those bags are for me," Rheon commented when Katie appeared at his station. He glanced up at her, thick mustache nearly hiding his cheeky grin. "And if they aren't, you might want to sing a different tune - I _do_ control who gets in this particular ward."

Katie crinkled her nose at him. "You think I'm that heartless, Rheon, to leave a pour soul such as yourself without some butterscotch biscuits, fresh from the oven?" She handed one of the paper bags over to him. "You wound me."

"Ahhh, Bell, marry me." The burly guard opened the bag and stuck his nose inside, inhaling the delicious scent of baked goods. "We'd make a good pair, methinks."

"_Methinks_ your wife might have something to say about that."

He shrugged and rose, pulling his wand from its holster. "Eh, you can't blame a bloke for trying." Setting his biscuits to the side, he nodded shortly. "Right, you know the drill."

She set her handbag, book, and other bakery package on the table and stepped back, holding her arms away from her body. Rheon ran his wand over her belongings; finding nothing out of the ordinary to trigger the security spells, he ran the same spell over her.

"We wasn't sure you'd be back," he said conversationally, though his tone was low. The Healers wouldn't like it if he were overheard gossiping about their patients, especially one with as high a profile as Marcus Flint. "Ain't heard him that narked since he got here." He stepped back, satisfied once more that she wasn't coming to the hospital to murder a defenseless man chained to his bed.

Katie sighed. "I know. I fucked up." She grabbed her stuff and tucked it beneath her arm. "Time to wave the white flag."

The guard nodded, sitting back down on his ample bottom as he reached for his bag of treats. "Right. Well, luck with that."

"Thanks," Katie muttered. Her footsteps echoed down the familiar hallway. As usual, it was nearly deserted. she noted that the door next to Flint's room was open where it had been shut last she'd visited. A quick peek inside revealed an empty bed and pristine room, its occupant gone.

She'd have to check the evening _Prophet_ to see which trials had happened since her last trip to the hospital.

Reaching Flint's room, she found the door slightly ajar. Knocking once to alert him to her presence, she stepped inside. She half expected another shouting match; at the very least, being told to go jump off a cliff.

Instead, he grunted. "You."

"Me," she agreed. Taking his indifference as a sign that his mood was improved, she moved into the room and held the bag up. "I come in peace."

Flint raised a nonchalant eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Freshly baked pumpkin pasties." She plopped the bag down on his stomach, allowing herself a small smile when he gave an 'oof' in indignation. "Enjoy."

"Don't need your charity, Bell," he muttered gruffly.

"Oh, shut up and enjoy them, Flint," she replied peevishly. "It's got to be better than the food here."

"In case you haven't noticed, my hands are literally tied to the bed."

"Nice try, but I'm not going to feed you. You might bite my fingers off." Ignoring whatever he muttered under his breath, Katie added, "You've got enough leeway for your hand to reach your mouth." _Just_ enough - he might have to tilt his head forward a bit, but he'd survive.

Settling into the chair at his bedside, Katie reclined back and crossed her ankles over one another. "Now, you and I are going to have a little chat."

"No, we're not."

"Yes, we are," she said firmly.

Flint glared at her, the furrowing of his brow making the angry gash on his forehead stand out. "Why? Five minutes was enough of your chatter for me. Didn't we have enough?"

"If you count your grunting as a form of communication, then we have. But since I do not, you're going to tell me exactly how you wound up in this hospital bad."

"I'm fairly sure a hex had something to do with it."

"_Before_ the battle, Flint. I want to know how you wound up with a Dark Mark burned into your arm - the whole story. And how does your sister factor into it?"

His expression was stony. "What good is that going to do?"

Katie sighed. "Just... just tell me, Flint. We can discuss the merits of Storytime with Mr. Flint when you're done."

He stared at her for a long pause with an unreadable expression. Katie held his gaze with an even one of her own, and one brow rose as if in challenge. She could be _just_ as stubborn as he could - a hypothesis proven when he spit out, "_Fine_. Where should I start?"

_A-ha!_ "The beginning is usually a proper place," she remarked dryly.

"Well, Bell, when two people love each other very. very much - as my parents did - they come together in ways you'll learn about when you're older."

She spared him a cutting look. "Skip the sarcasm, Flint."

"Only if you do, too."

Her nose crinkled, but she nodded. "Fine. Skip the love story and fast forward to the important details."

His chains clinked against the metal bed frame as curiosity finally won out, and he reached for the bakery sack. Opening it with a rustle, he popped one in his mouth. "My parents married straight out of Hogwarts. Arranged match, but they were already keen on each other so it worked. Mum had me when she was twenty."

He licked the sugar and cinnamon off his fingertips. "When I was eighteen, Lucy came along. They'd wanted to another kid, but Mum had some health problems. Anyway, we're a fair bit apart."

"That's an understatement."

Flint ignored her and reached for another pasty. "She was three when Mum and Dad died." His tone was matter of fact, but she didn't miss the way he said the words softly. "I had my majority, so I got custody."

Katie gave him a disbelieving look. "At twenty-one, you had custody of a three year-old girl?"

He shrugged. "Who else was going to take care of her? All our grandparents were dead, and we'd never been really close with extended family. Besides..." he trailed off, dark eyes shifting to the visible tattoo on his forearm. He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. "She's the only family I have left."

Slowly, Katie nodded. She wasn't as quick on her feet as her brother, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. "And they threatened to kill her if you didn't cooperate."

"Not in so many words, but they might as well have." He met her inquiring gaze, his voice suddenly choked with emotion. "They said they'd do the same thing to Lucy as they did to the Montgomery boy."

She inhaled sharply. "Greyback?"

He nodded. "My mother was a Rosier. So was Scarlett Montgomery - they were cousins, a few times removed. They both inherited a chunk of the family fortune when the males were all killed off. The Montgomery's got the bulk of it because Scarlett was older. And the Dark Lord..." he laughed bitterly. "Even a dictator needs a bank account."

"They went after her for her money?"

Katie knew the bare details of the story, but hearing Flint tell it fleshed it out a bit. Scarlett Montgomery had been threatened by Death Eaters to do _something_ - turn over her family fortune, apparently. And after she'd refused, Greyback had attacked her youngest child.

"After Josh - that was his name, the boy. Joshua Montgomery - died, they sent the same people after me with the same message. Take the Mark, fund the cause, and they wouldn't send a murderous werewolf after my little sister."

"You took the Mark to protect her," she whispered.

"Yeah, and look where that's got me. Chained to a bed and waiting to be sent to a prison in the middle of the North Sea." He snorted bitterly. "I don't even know _where_ she is. If she's alive."

A thought sprang to mind, and Katie filed it away for later. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "I've got an idea."

"Famous Gryffindor last words."

She ignored the jab. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"Oh, my knight in shining armor," he drawled sarcastically. "And how are you going to do that, oh savior, my savior?"

"Dazzle them with my wit and charm," she offered with a smirk.

"Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Like you said, who's going to believe a story like that?"

"Luckily for you, _I_ do." She grinned at him and reclined back, propping her feet up on the side of his bed. "And when I'm finished, so will everyone else."

* * *

_June 30, 1998_

"What, no biscuits this time? If you're going to force these visits on me, Bell, the least you can do is feed me."

Katie snorted as she stepped into the hospital room, a copy of yesterday's _Daily Prophet_ tucked under her arm. "Flint, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you enjoyed my baking." She dropped down into the seat at his bedside and smirked at him. "Admit it."

"I'll admit nothing of the sort. Saying your biscuits are better than hospital food is not exactly a compliment." He eyed the paper she'd moved to her lap. "Are you going to torture me with my horoscope? It probably says 'partly cloudy with a certainty of prison' under Capricorn."

"Never had much use for Divination," she countered. "Besides, didn't I say I was going to help you?"

"I don't want your help, Bell."

She ignored his surly look and quirked a brow at him. "Fine," she replied breezily. "You get a choice. You can accept my help and possibly avoid prison, or I can walk out right now. And if I leave, there's pretty no much no way you don't get at least ten years in Azkaban - and that's according to your barrister."

A look of surprise crossed his face. "When did you talk to Diocles? And how did you even know who my barrister is?"

Katie rolled her eyes and tossed the paper at the bed. "The _Prophet_ started printing up hearing schedules on Monday mornings. Your trial's next Friday; it wasn't exactly difficult to ask around, find out who was representing you, and swing by his office."

Settling back in her seat, she kicked her feet up and propped them on the end of Flint's bed. "So, what's it going to be?"

Annoyed eyes glared at her sullenly. "I still don't want your help."

"You're an idiot, Flint."

"And I wasn't finished." He picked up the paper and gave it a cursory glance, then tossed it to the side. "I don't want your help, and I don't want your pity, either. But I'm not stupid enough to turn it away."

"Oh, good, an old dog _can_ learn new tricks."

It was Flint's turn to roll his eyes. "As soon as I get a new wand, the first thing I'm doing is spelling your mouth shut."

"You say the sweetest things."

For a moment, he was quiet. His brown gaze met her eyes and studied her, as if trying to get a read on her thoughts. The intensity was a bit disconcerting - other than his outburst a week ago, she'd not really seen any heated emotions from the man still chained to his bed.

She didn't know how he made her feel, and it scared her.

"Mr. Caldwell is going to speak to your aunt as well, I believe. Scarlett," Katie added in an attempt to break the silence. "He wants to get some corroborating evidence to back up my testimony."

"That's your plan? You're going to testify in court on my behalf?" Flint narrowed his eyes. "Like Potter?"

"I am."

"Why?" He shook his head. "Bell, you hate me. We're not friends, we've barely been civil before. Why are you helping me?"

"First off, I don't hate you. I might not like you very much, but I'm enough of an adult to admit you're not as loathsome as I once thought."

"Are you sure about that?"

Katie blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not a complete idiot, Bell. I did... I did some shit I'm not proud of. The sorts of things the Wizengamot won't just overlook because you tell them I didn't mean to." His eyes closed, and he took a deep, slow breath. On an exhale, he opened his eyes and looked over at her. "It's a big risk for someone you don't really like very much."

It was Katie's turn to be quiet. She glanced down at her hands, her fingers busy chipping away at her week-old manicure as she tended to do when she fidgeted.

Flint's point was nothing new. She'd gone over it in her head hundreds of times - by standing up for a known Death Eater, she was risking a lot. Her family, she knew would support her no matter what. Her friends... they were hurting. And it was entirely possible she was risking a future in the League. Was Marcus Flint really worth it?

"I'm not doing it for you," she finally answered. "I'm doing it for Lucy."

At his confused look, she continued. "I lost my dad in an accident when I was little. My mum... she was really depressed for a long time after that - almost five years. I wasn't as young as Lucy is, but my brother was pretty much the only family member I had left."

Dark brown eyes flickered to meet his. "You both already lost your parents. Lucy shouldn't have to lose you again, too." She sighed and shrugged. "And I guess, despite everything, we're not as different as we always thought."

"Don't tell anyone else, Bell, or I'll have to kick a flock of Pygmy Puffs to keep my reputation intact," he commented dryly.

She tried to ignore the pang of rejection she felt at his comment. Talking about her dad... it wasn't something she'd had to do in a long time. All her friends already knew, and discussing his death and her family dynamics wasn't something she did every day. It figured the one time she opened up, the particularities went ignored.

"Very nice," she said in a flat tone, reaching over to grab the paper. "Anyway, that's why." She stood hurriedly and gave him a small smile and wave. "I should get going. I'll see you next Friday."

"Wait, Bell."

She didn't turn around.

* * *

**July 2, 1998**

If Katie were being perfectly honest with herself, she'd have admitted that running away from the hospital three days ago was a cowardly act. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit that Healer Ackerley had a point - that perhaps, she _did_ need to talk things over with a medical professional.

Luckily for her, she preferred the ostrich method to facing her fears - burying her head in the sand and ignoring them.

Imitating flightless African birds, however, could only work for so long. And so, she found herself back at St. Mungo's, a piece of parchment crumpled in her hand, standing at the doorway to Flint's room.

"You came." Flint's face was a carefully blank, devoid of any telltale signs of emotion. There was a note of surprise in his tone. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Neither was I." Katie held up the note in her hand as she stepped into the room. "Your owl was unexpected, but the wording was persuasive enough."

Flint's lips twitched. "Do you know how many Healers I had to ask before one agreed to owl you for me?"

She rolled her eyes. "You asked one, and Jade agreed." She smirked and took her up her usual perch in the chair next to his bed. "Apparently, you've been pining away without my presence here." She unfolded the parchment and began to read, pitching her tone to a low, seductive rumble. "Miss Bell, my heart cannot bear it when we're apart. Your beauty haunts my dreams, I see your face when I close my eyes, and I long for the day I can touch you because I'm not chained to a bed."

"Ha ha ha," Flint deadpanned. "Very amusing, Bell. What'd the note say?"

"Come visit soon - Flint misses you. P.S. Please bring some more oatmeal biscuits."

"She did not say that."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Katie folded the note up and tucked it into her pocket, her face expressionless as she looked over at him. He was staring at her with an indescribable look on her face, and she had to fight not to squirm under its intensity. "So, I'm here. What'd you want?"

He was quiet for a long moment, just looking at her. Katie held his gaze, determined not to be the first to break in the unspoken game of wills. There were dark circles under his eyes that his pale skin only emphasized. For all that he'd literally been stuck in bed for nearly two months, he looked _tired_.

"Why'd you run the other day?"

Katie glanced away, breaking the stalemate. _Dammit_. "What does it matter?"

"Bell, I've pretty much laid bare my sodding life story for you. The very least you could do is to return the favor a tiny bit." His brow arched, his lips slightly twisted. "You don't have to keep everything to yourself, you know. Go at it alone."

"And you're one to talk on that, are you?" She couldn't stop the barb from slipping out.

For his part, Flint just shrugged. "Bell, I'm a Slytherin, and I'm a bloke. Neither types are really big on chatting about our feelings. And you know, ignoring the fact that I'm shite at tests, I'm not stupid."

Katie's gaze flickered to meet his again, but she didn't say anything. Undeterred, he finished, "I've got friends who didn't get involved in all this. Montague, Vaisey, Bole. Been mates with them as long as I can remember, but I haven't seen any of them since the war was over."

"Just me."

"Just you." He exhaled and closed his eyes, leaning back against the fluffed up pillows. "Can't say I blame them. Probably would do the same if our roles were reversed. They'll wait to see which way the wind blows and all that rot. But at the same time, it's a kick in the bollocks to know that my only... well, the only person who gives a damn about me is a short Gryffindor girl I used to pummel around the Quidditch pitch."

She didn't say anything at first. She let his words sink in, and not for the first time, was struck by how much his situation really _sucked_. That his 'friends' hadn't been to visit didn't surprise her - everyone knew Slytherins looked out for number one. And she'd known for a while that she was his only visitor - but dammit, she'd have thought _someone_ else would have popped round by now.

A bittersweet pang of affection tugged at her heart - which she promptly ignored.

"I don't remember you doing much pummeling, Flint," she replied lightly, her lips twitching when annoyed eyes opened to meet her mirthful gaze. "Besides, Montague likely got himself shoved in a Vanishing Cabinet again."

Fred and George had been the ones to shove him in the first time round. The memory wiped the smile from her face immediately.

"Wouldn't surprise me." If he picked up on her sudden downswing in mood, he didn't comment on it. "Long story short, Bell, I guess is this. I don't -"

He reached up to run a hand through his hair, a frustrated growl rumbling when his chains stopped him just shy of his goal. "Part of me hates you. Or wants to hate you. And fuck, I've tried to hate you. But I don't know if it's the butterscotch biscuits talking, but... you know, I don't hate you."

"I don't hate you either, Flint," she answered softly. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a questioning look. "Does that make us friends?"

"Let's not get carried away."

_July 5, 1998_

The night before the trial, Katie had planned to drop by the hospital and visit one last time. But when she'd received the owl from Lee, inviting her and Alicia to dinner, she'd quickly changed her plans.

Group dinner had been a frequent event after she'd finished at Hogwarts. Every month, they'd take turns hosting a little potluck dinner - it'd been established by the time Katie joined them, as the rest of her friends had all finished school the year prior. From hijinks at the twins' flat over the shop to laughing at the fact that Lee still lived in his parents' basement, it'd been a fun little tradition.

Of course, it'd stopped when the war really started. Now, it'd never be the same.

They didn't meet at home this time, instead choosing a cheap little noodle bar in Muggle London. The mood hanging between the three of them was noticeably depressed; it was impossible not to think on the fact that only half of their "family" was present. George hadn't left the Burrow in weeks, and Angelina was avoiding them all.

And Fred was gone. Fred would never join them again.

Still, they tried to retain some semblance of normality. Lee fell back on his old methods of flattering, praising the beauty of his dining companions while Katie jabbed Alicia's hand with her chopsticks for trying to steal some of her ramen.

Eventually, though, the inevitable topic came up.

"So, Kates," Lee began conversationally, eyeing her over his bowl of noodles, "Ali said you've been visiting Flint in the hospital."

Katie shot her friend a side-eyed look. Alicia, for her part, just shrugged non-apologetically.

She glanced back at Lee. "I have," she admitted. "I was visiting all the battle patients in the hospital and decided to check in on him."

Lee nodded slowly, but Katie could pick up on his tells. The slight thinning of his lips, the way his nostrils flared ever-so-slightly - signs most people would miss, but then again, most people hadn't dated Lee for two years. She knew her ex-boyfriend better than practically anyone else. Without him saying a word, she could tell he was upset.

"Why?" He used his chopsticks to wind the noodles around his bowl, but his attention was focused on her. "What's it with him?"

Katie shrugged. "I don't know. He's not _evil_, Lee."

"He's a _Death Eater_, Katie," Lee hissed. "Look up 'evil' in the dictionary, and you'll find 'see also: Death Eater.'"

"When did you get so judgmental?"

"When did you turn coat?"

"_Excuse me?_" Katie was sure her ears weren't properly working. At her side, Alicia had gone still; the only visible sign of movement was her eyes, shooting worried looks back and forth between Katie and Lee. "What did you just say?"

He slammed his chopsticks down on the table. Broth slopped over the side of his bowl and ran down the cheap vinyl tablecloth. He ignored it. "You heard me," he replied, tone heated. "Death Eaters killed my _best friend_, and now I find out you're going to get up in front of the entire world and get one out of prison!"

"Because he doesn't deserve to go to prison!" Katie shouted. She didn't care that people were staring, or that they were in a Muggle restaurant - State of Secrecy be damned; there weren't any other diners in the entire place, and the staff barely spoke English. She'd take the damn fine if the Ministry got wind of it.

"They killed Fred!"

"_He_ didn't kill Fred!"

"Hey, please," Alicia reached out and grabbed both their hands, tugging gently, "stop fighting."

Lee jerked his hand from her grasp and fixed his ex with a venomous look. "This is ridiculous. The Katie I knew wouldn't willingly breathe the same _air_ as a Death Eater, let alone volunteer to testify at his trial. Before I know it, you'll be wearing green and black and fucking him if you haven't already."

She saw red. Her body reacted on instinct. It wasn't until she heard the loud 'crack!' that she realized she'd reached across the table and slapped him hard enough to make his head whip to the side.

"The only person I've fucked recently is _you_," she snarled, brown eyes narrow in anger. "That's not a mistake I'm going to make again."

"Good. I'm done." He pushed away from the table and stood, reaching into his pocket for a handful of Muggle pound notes. Tossing them onto the table, he added, "I've lost my appetite."

Alicia and Katie were silent as Lee stormed out of the restaurant, the waiter and owner whispering behind their hands as he left. For her part, Katie couldn't hear them - in the wake of Lee's stinging accusations, she felt the anger drain from her body, leaving her with nothing but the exhaustion she only felt after a punishing run.

"That... could have gone worse," Alicia volunteered after a moment of quiet. Katie shot her a weak look, and she amended, "Okay, maybe not. He didn't mean it, Kates. He's hurting."

"We're all hurting." The brunette sighed and propped her elbows up on the table, letting her forehead rest in her hands. "Do you think I'm crazy, Ali?"

"Crazy? Nah." Her friend gently patted her on the back, rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades. "But I do hope you know what you're doing."

"I'm trying to do something right." Katie's voice was just louder than a whisper. She could feel a headache forming in that spot between her eyes. "They sent Pansy Parkinson to Azkaban yesterday, Ali. For trying to turn Harry over."

"I heard," the blonde said with a nod.

"I mean, I think she's an awful hag and a terrible excuse for a human being, but _Azkaban_?" Katie lifted her head to look at her friend. "I don't know if she deserves it."

"And you don't think Flint deserves prison, either." It was a statement, not a question. Merlin only knew how much Alicia knew her friend had debated what to do in regards to their old Quidditch rival.

Katie sighed, then shook her head. "I'm sure he did things - really bad things. But he was just trying to protect his sister. If I was in his shoes, I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same."

Alicia nodded. Wordlessly, she reached out and drew Katie into a comforting hug. She rested her chin atop Katie's dark locks.

"Then you're doing the right thing, and fuck anyone who's too shortsighted to see that."

* * *

_July 6, 1998_

There was an anxious sort of energy flowing around the small courtroom as Katie took her seat on one of the lower benches. To her far left, twenty Wizengamot officials sat in their severe plum robes, signifying their status as judge, jury, and executioner. As Flint's case was one of the lesser trials, the court had elected not to try him by the full Wizengamot - that had turned into the case with the majority of trials. There had been so many Death Eaters and supporters arrested, the Wizengamot would have their hands full for months if the full cadre tried each and every witch or wizard.

Twenty was enough, Katie decided, pulling her sweater in closer to keep warm. Courtroom Thirteen was one of the smaller ones, but it was still in the bowels of the Ministry. She half-wondered if Flint felt right at home, given the Slytherin common room's location in the Hogwarts dungeons.

The other occupants of the room were a mixture of press - their Quick Quotes Quills at the ready - and general onlookers. Save for a very few trials, the proceedings were open to the public.

And in the middle of the room, his hands and feet still bound in manacles, sat Flint. Someone had loaned him a set of black robes for the occasion, and despite Healer Ackerley's assertion that he was almost back to perfect health, he still looked gaunt and pale. A diminutive wizard sat beside him - Diocles Caldwell. She'd met Flint's barrister a few days prior, and despite his appearance, he came across as a very capable wizard.

Katie's attention was jerked away when she felt someone settle in next to her on the bench. She turned her head, eyes widening slightly when Alicia gave her a wry look.

"What are you doing here?"

The blonde shrugged. "Well, I wasn't about to let you fall down the rabbit hole by yourself. Consider this my good deed for the month."

Despite the circumstances, the bubbly blonde managed to pull a grin from Katie. "All of the tequila shall be yours."

"You're damn right."

The two women were silenced by the pounding of a gavel. The murmuring of voices silenced, and the lead Warlock's voice boomed out. "This court is called today to hear the case of Ministry versus Flint, Head Warlock Augustus Ferryflight presiding." The court scribe's quill flew along, recording his every word.

Turning his attention to the accused in question, he continued. "Marcus Aurelius Flint, you are accused of crimes against humanity by your participation as a known Death Eater. These crimes include, but are not limited to: murder, extortion, rape, extermination, political and racial persecution, and other widespread inhumane acts. Your guilt has been proven both by eyewitness accounts and by the Dark Mark on your arm."

Dioclese Caldwell rose. "As you have charged my client, it is within his rights and my prerogative to call witnesses to attest that Mr. Flint is in fact, _not_ guilty of these charges."

The Head Warlock stopped and stared at the barrister. "I...witnesses... t is within the realm [what?] of the law, counsel, but it has not been the norm."

"However," Caldwell countered, holding up a finger, "there is precedence. I refer the Wizengamot to the recent case of _Ministry versus Malfoy_."

"Counsel," a thin-faced witch in the second row of judges interjected, "the witness in that case was none other than Harry Potter, the very wizard who killed You-Know-Who."

Flint's barrister nodded. "I'm well aware of the circumstances, justice. However, my witness is a known associate of the Order of the Phoenix _and_ a veteran of the battle at Hogwarts." He raised his hands in question to the court in plea and paused, waiting.

For a moment, there was silence - save for an occasional drip of water in the back of the room. Finally, the Head Warlock sighed and shook his head. "Call your witness, counsel."

The small wizard smiled. "The defense calls Katelyn Bell."

Every single pair of eyes in the courtroom swiveled and fell to rest on her as she rose, smoothing her skirt to calm her nerves. She calmly walked to the middle of the room and sat down in the chair conjured for her, facing the Wizengamot.

"Please state your full name and town of residence for the record, Ms. Bell," the court scribe started."

"Katelyn Elizabeth Bell of Woolsthorpe-by-Belvoir."

"Thank you. Counsel has stated you are an associate of the Order of the Phoenix. Is that correct?"

Katie nodded. "Yes. I was a member of what we referred to as Dumbledore's Army whilst at Hogwarts, and I was involved with the Order in the year after I finished school."

At the scribe's satisfied nod, Mr. Caldwell took over. "Ms. Bell, please describe your history with the accused."

"We were in school together and played Quidditch against one another. Flint was several years older than me, so until last month, I hadn't seen him in years."

"And would you explain to the court how you came to be reacquainted with my client?"

She swallowed and clasped her hands together. Despite the chill, she could feel the sweat trickling down her back. "I found him beneath a pile of rubble, after the battle was over. I called for medical attention because he was wounded in several places."

She paused and took a breath. "Since the beginning of May, I have been visiting St. Mungo's to bring baked goods to patients and Healers. I... Well, until the League sets a draft date, I don't have much to do to occupy my days other than train. I started to visit with Flint a few weeks ago."

"Which is when Mr. Flint told you about his sister?"

"Do not lead the witness, counsel," the Head Warlock rebuked sharply. He turned his attention back to Katie. "Ms. Bell, please explain why Mr. Flint's sister is pertinent to these proceedings."

"Flint's sister, Lucy, has everything to do with these proceedings," Katie countered, irritation momentarily flaring. "After their parents died, Flint was granted custody of Lucy. At the time, he was twenty-one. She was four."

Mr. Caldwell produced a few parchments from his briefcase. "Exhibit A for the defense - the paperwork filed with the Ministry, awarding sole custody of Lucinda Selene Flint to my client. Witnessed and notarized on March 8, 1995."

"He and his sister inherited their family's fortune. And You-Know-Who threatened Flint if he didn't join the Death Eaters. Well," she shifted in her seat and met the Head Warlock's piercing gaze, "he threatened that his sister would be visited by Fenrir Greyback if Flint didn't cooperate."

A low murmur rose in the courtroom as the weight of Katie's words sank in. The barrister seized on the momentum. "Ms. Bell's story is hardly outside the realm of possibility, as we are all aware of a similar case concerning the death of Joshua Montgomery of Kidlington two years ago. In the case of that family, assistance was refused, and the young boy was murdered."

His voice rose in volume, drowning out the other voices in the courtroom. "The only reason my client joined You-Know-Who and took the Dark Mark was to save his little sister from a similar fate."

Another few sheets of parchment was withdrawn from his case. "Exhibit B for the defense - a sworn affidavit from Scarlett Montgomery, mother of Joshua and a second cousin of my client's late mother, corroborating Ms. Bell's account and legally confirming this method of persuasion by the deceased wizard formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle."

He passed the affidavit to the court scribe and lowered his voice. "Given her recent grief, I did not ask Mrs. Montgomery to appear today. However, the affidavit was given in the presence of two Aurors and notarized by Ministry officials."

"Exhibit C," he said, holding up the document, "is paperwork filed by the Department of Children's Services, stating that Lucy Flint was one of several children removed from a home owned by Mirabelle Selwyn, a known supporter of You-Know-Who and mother of Death Eaters Gwendolyn and Felix Selwyn. The child was taken from her brother's home six months ago, and my client has not seen his little sister since."

Head Warlock Ferryflight nodded grimly. "If you're finished, counsel, we have some questions for your witness." At the barrister's nod of approval, the imposing wizard fixed his dark gaze on Katie. "Ms. Bell, when you found the accused after the battle, was there an exchange of spells? Did he say anything to you?"

She shook her head. "No, his wand was broken by the time I found him."

"And did the accused speak to you at that time?"

"Yes." She held her chin up and met his gaze evenly. "He asked me to kill him."

"That hardly sounds like a request an innocent man would make," another witch commented, arching one thin brow down at her. "Why did you not grant his request? Most other would have done so were they in your shoes."

"There is a difference between self defense and murder," Katie shot back hotly before taking a deep, calming breath. _She_ wasn't on trial, and losing her cool might jeopardize Flint's chances for a lenient sentence. "He was unarmed and injured, not a threat to me or to the others with me. Causing harm in the heat of battle is one thing, but I am _not_ a murderer."

Her answer silenced the crowd, and the Head Warlock sighed. "We have no more questions for you, Ms. Bell. You may return to your seat."

Katie didn't need to be told twice. She stood and hurried back to the bench, once more facing the center of the courtroom. Alicia's hand slipped into hers and squeezed reassuringly.

Up until that moment, she hadn't realized how badly her hands were trembling.

"I would like to call an additional witness to the stand, if it please the court."

The Head Warlock waved his hand in a gesture of acquiescence. "By all means, counsel, call away."

The diminutive wizard nodded to the high court. "The defense calls Gwendolyn Selwyn to the stand."

A ripple of gasps and whispers moved through the small courtroom as a back door was flung open. Two Aurors, clad in official crimson robes, strode through; a small, shackled woman nestled between them. She was, at best estimate, in her late thirties. Her prison robes were gray and nondescript, and her dirty blonde hair was plaited in a haphazard braid.

Katie only recognized her from her picture in the _Daily Prophet_. Gwendolyn Selwyn - known Death Eater most famous for the gruesome Boxing Day murder of Hestia Jones late the previous year.

Hate-filled eyes glared around the courtroom before landing on Flint, and she sneered. The two Aurors shoved her into the seat Katie had vacated, magical chains instantly rising from the floor to circle her manacles.

"Ms. Selwyn -"

"I am not confessing to any of Flint's crimes," she spat out angrily.

"Nor are we asking you to, madame," Caldwell reassured her, seemingly unperturbed by the angry witch. "You are not currently on trial for anything, nor will this courtroom ask for any information you have not already confessed on record with the Ministry."

The blonde eyed him the way a cat eyed a mouse, her lips curled in contempt. "Then what am I doing here?"

"Ms. Selwyn, you are the only daughter of Icarus and Mirabelle Selwyn, is that correct?"

"Yes. What of it?"

The barrister flipped through several sheets of parchment he'd pulled from his briefcase. "Ah, here we are." He pushed his glasses up his hooked nose and read from his notes. "On the evening of June 14th, 1997, did you visit Flint Manor in Pontefract?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I did."

"Please describe for the court, your purposes for that visit."

"I may have suggested that Flint show his proper loyalties to our Lord," she replied smoothly. "While we were visiting, I might have remarked on what a pity it would be if something were to happen to his sweet, dainty little sister. Such a pretty little thing she was."

"Something... in the form of Fenrir Greyback, something?"

The Death Eater smiled, revealing teeth that were too white to be natural. "Fen liked the little ones, and the Dark Lord liked to reward him for his service."

Bile rose in Katie's throat. Next to her, Ali shuddered.

For his part, the barrister did not react. "Please describe what happened next."

Another shrug. "I gave him three days to think our offer over." She paused and rolled her shoulders to the side, fixing Flint with a coy look. "It only took him one before he made the right decision."

"Upon receiving the Dark Mark, Lucy Flint was removed from her brother's custody and placed in the care of your mother, was she not?"

"That's right. Long as Flint did was he was supposed to, little miss Lucy wouldn't get to play with a wolf."

"Thank you for your cooperation today, Ms. Selwyn. That is all." The man glanced up at the assembled jurors, and the Head Warlock nodded to the Aurors. Striding forward to take her by her elbows, they led her back out the door and exited the courtroom.

It was silent for half a second before another round of whispers buzzed around the courtroom. For her part, Katie remained quiet. It was one thing to hear the story from Flint - but there had been _malice_ in the female Death Eater's tone. She looked like the sort of person who was very capable of torturing with a smile on her face.

Head Warlock Ferryflight banged his gavel against his desk. It took a moment, but finally, the din died down until it was silent and still once more.

"The court will now render a verdict in the case of _Ministry versus Flint_. All those who find Mr. Flint guilt of these charges, please raise your hands."

A smattering of hands rose. Katie hurried to count before the scribe nodded, and the hands were lowered.

"All those in favor of acquittal, raise your hands."

_Five, six, seven, eight_, Katie counted, gaze darting between the two rows, _nine, ten, eleven, twelve!_

They'd done it.

"By a vote of twelve to eight, this court finds Mr. Flint not guilty." The court scribe transcribed the verdict for the official record. "Mr. Flint, you are free to go."

At the words, the manacles on his wrists and ankles opened and fell away, dropping to the stone floor with a loud 'clank!' Flint, for his part, looked stunned. One hand rubbed at the opposite wrist, as if unsure what the feeling of lightness in his muscles was.

Next to her, Alicia leaned in and whispered, "Good job, Kates."

"Thanks," she breathed.

She watched as Flint stood and shook hands with his barrister, the two men exchanging words too softly for the buzzing courtroom to overhear. And then those dark eyes were turned to her.

Her lips twitched when he started towards her, boots heavy on the floor. He stopped in front of her and, after a short staring contest between the two of them, gave her a curt nod.

"I didn't ask for your help."

"I know you didn't."

He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "I'm not going to say thank you."

Katie snickered and shook her head, finally rising to her feet. Now that he was no longer chained to a bed, she could fully appreciate their difference in height; even with heels on, the top of her head barely brushed his chin.

She crinkled her nose and tipped her head back, amused brown eyes meeting his. "Color me surprised."

* * *

_May 24, 2000 - Two years later_

Hair still slightly damp from her post-match shower, Katie grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her teammates had all cleared out of the locker room by that point; it didn't take men _quite_ as long to wash their hair. Supposedly. But for once, the Kenmare changing room was blessedly quiet.

There were days where she had to pinch herself. Okay, she had to pinch herself most _every_ day. Playing professional Quidditch had been a dream of hers for nearly fifteen years. It was still sinking in that her dream actually came true. She'd spent a year in the reserves before being called up shortly before the Christmas break when the starting right Chaser had been sidelined due to an unexpected pregnancy.

Rumor was, Mills was planning to retire. Katie had every intention of making this temporary switch a permanent one, come hell or high water.

Opening the door to the locker room, her momentary silence was shattered by screams.

"Katie!" "Miss Bell!" "_It's her!_"

_That_ part was taking a bit longer to sink in. The fans screaming her name, hanging around the Kenmare Apparition point in hopes of getting a picture, shaking her hand, walking away with her autograph. Only the most devoted hung around this long, though, and tired as she was, Katie was happy to talk to a few fans before she could escape home to a comfortable bed and a glass of wine.

Pulling out the Muggle marker she kept in a bag - so much more practical than a quill! - she worked her way down the line of fans, signing the various pieces of memorabilia thrust in front of her; a trading card, a team poster, a Quaffle, even a broomsticks.

"You were _brilliant_ today, Katie! Wigtown didn't stand a chance!"

"Thank you so much for coming out!" she replied with a quick grin. "It really means the world to me."

"Are you going to beat Appleby next week?" a small boy voiced, blue eyes big when she glanced down at him. He grasped shyly at his father's trousers, suddenly dumbstruck.

Katie winked at him. "What do _you_ think?"

The boy grinned, forgetting his shyness. "Yes!"

"Good answer," she replied. Turning her focus to the last two people waiting, she started to thank them for coming - but the words died on her lips.

She hadn't seen him in nearly two years - not since that day in the Ministry courtroom. His black hair was longer than she remembered, hanging over his forehead in waves. The white scar tissue on his left temple was barely visible, but it was there. But most strikingly of all was his casual demeanor. He was dressed simply in a crisp, black button down shirt tucked into a pair of denims. And he was...

Well, he wasn't _quite_ smiling. But he was definitely amused.

"Hello, Bell."

Her mouth opened, then shut again as she weighed various replies. _Why was this even an issue?_

"You need a haircut."

He snorted softly and shook his head. "You still have a way with words. Good to know some things never change."

Her lips twitched upwards. "Hello, Flint," she said. "It's been a long time."

"Two years."

"_Very_ long time."

He shrugged unapologetically. "I've had things to take care of." He glanced down at the other person standing their with them, a tiny little girl hitherto unseen and silent. A genuine expression of pride crossed his face as he squeezed her shoulders. "Are you going to say hello, Bean?"

'Bean' - or rather, Katie deduced, Lucy - blinked owlishly up at Katie, her little arms wrapped tightly around the Quaffle that seemed too large for such a small grasp.

Her fog lasted approximately two seconds._"KatiebellIcan'tbelieveyourereallyhereIlovetheKestralssomuchandyouremyfavoriteplayerImyourbiggestfanwillyousignmyQuaffleplease?"_

Katie laughed - she couldn't help it. Crouching down so she was on eye level, she gave the little girl a grin. "I'd be happy to sign your Quaffle, Lucy."

Astonished green eyes widened in wonder. "_How did you know my name?"_ She glanced up at her brother in amazement, and he shrugged - as if the ponce had no idea.

"Of course I know the name of my _biggest_ fan!" Katie assured her, signing her name across the Quaffle with a flourish. "Does your brother bring you to matches often?"

"This is my first!" she proclaimed with a toothy grin. "We've been travelling all around the world, and we just came home a few weeks ago. But Kenmare's always been my favorite team, and Marcus let me listen to their matches on the wireless - even when we were in Australia!"

"Australia, huh?" Katie handed the little girl her Quaffle back, and she couldn't help the warm feeling of pride she felt when Lucy cradled it in her arms like a baby. "Were those matches past your bedtime?"

The blonde shuffled her feet and kicked at the ground sheepishly, glancing up at her brother. "Maybe. But Marcus said it was alright!"

Katie straightened, the blood rushing back through her calf muscles as she stood. "Oh?" Her brown eyes were bright with amusement, one brow quirked at the big brother in question. "What else does Marcus say?"

Marcus started to cut her off, but Lucy was too quick. "He says that Ballycastle is gonna beat Kenmare next month because Kenmare has a rubbish Keeper, and he says that girls can't play Quidditch as well as men can - but I think that's just silly, because the Harpies are in second place right now, and they're all women!"

"Not as good as men?" Katie's lips twitched in a challenging smirk. "I think your brother's still sore from losing to some female Gryffindor chasers when we were in school."

"False." Flint snorted gruffly. "Women aren't as strong as men are. They can't take bludgers and recover as quickly."

Katie looked down at Lucy and laughed when the little blonde rolled her eyes, as if she'd heard the spiel time and time again. "Well, Lucy, I tell you what. If you ever want to talk Quidditch with a professional _woman_, send me an owl."

The little girl's eyes widened as if Father Christmas had arrived early. "_Really?_"

"Really." She winked. "We girls have to stick together around the boys, you know."

Lucy was practically hovering off the ground, she was bouncing up and down so much. "Did you hear that, Marcus? I can send Katie owls! She'll write to me!"

Marcus's hand fell to her shoulder and held her in place. "I heard, Bean. I was going to send her an owl myself, but I'll just let you do it."

"Oh? Why were you going to owl her?"

He glanced up at Katie and shrugged. "I was going to see if she'd want to get dinner sometime. I never did thank her for... well, that thing that time."

"What thing?" Lucy glanced back and forth between the two adults, her brow furrowed in curiosity. "What time?"

The brunette crossed her arms over her chest and fixed Flint with a questioning look. "That thing that time? I thought you weren't thanking me for _that_."

"I might've changed my mind." Flint's lip pursed, and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Take it or leave it, Katie."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Fine," she answered automatically, before her brain really had the chance to realize that he'd used her name - not Bell, not Gryffindor, but _Katie_. "Next Friday?"

"Eight o'clock at _The Blue Owl_?"

"Fine."

"Fine." His lips twitched, and for the first time, she saw him actually _smile_. "I'll see you there." Reaching down, he tweaked Lucy's nose, his own crinkling when she made a sound of displeasure. "Come on, Bean, we've got dinner with your cousins tonight. Say goodbye to Katie."

"Bye bye, Katie! Thank you for signing my Quaffle!" Beaming up at Marcus, she allowed him to lead her away towards the Apparition point, pausing every few steps to wave over her shoulder.

Katie waved at the pair until they were out of sight. Adjusting her shoulder bag, she glanced around the now-deserted stadium underbelly. A smile crept to her lips. Two years ago, she'd have sooner taken the Cruciatus Curse than go on a date - or whatever this 'dinner' was - with Marcus Flint.

And now, she was looking forward to it.

_Go figure_.


End file.
